Car Poems

The speed of my automobile exclusively Depends on the wheelman which earth born Crave where the passengers await it destination, Seeing an endless road ahead. Every four years is its renewal with the Hope of getting to the promise terra-firma

You can lose a penny, or a special letter. A bill for the gas, or your red setter. Even where you placed your car, or the dog you tied to a forgotten gate. But to lose your mind, now that

Let’s take a walk Just you and me and none of our goddamn pretensions None of the constant editing of words and phrases in our daily interactions Let’s say things as they come to mind Hell, let’s just not say

10 ways to write a poem! No sentence in the glory of English language has hit me as hard as this one did. I started writing poetry when I was in class 7th. I still remember the day when this

Dear son, African American warrior, Reincarnation of the people of the Sudan. I hope you understand why 
I am writing you this letter. And 
hopefully, by the time you read it
 Race relations in America are a lot 
better than what

It was the middle of winter. A crisp white morning. Birds trilling in high pitched notes. Did their little feet get cold? I wondered, as I walked by listening to their sweet tunes. Deep in thought, a car horn peeped,

Her abuse of my naivety left a gaping wound; the cloaking (but never healing) of that wound made me hard and cold. ​She was sweet and sincere She dried my tears She was sympathetic And somewhat poetic She drew me

My room was the old garage attached to the house festooned with posters and dirty underpants my father’s Mercedes was a sacred relic with a flavor of old leather upholstery. It rested in its own building. there must have been

Freddy the flea moved in here with me, and his family were queued up behind. I said ‘it’s a cheek’, but he looked pretty bleak, so I said c’mon in’ ‘cos I’m kind. In they all trotted, and now they

A complaint to God God made me rich But you didn’t give poor the money stitch God you gave me a house But made the poor sleep on the dead bodies of a mouse You gave me lots of love

The clock stuck 3:00AM; My cellphone alarm said, “Sleep Lakhan” I switched off the lights and turned the fan on; Went to sleep, as it was almost dawn. Dream started: I was sitting in a coffee shop working on my

I shall never forget that there are the unfortunate ones who would give anything just to be able to have one moment of recall. But they cannot, because of sickness or disease. Our hearts cry out for these, and may

My secret place is condensed by the deepness of the everglades, mixed with boldness of green Arabic sparks. My secret place is a place of comfort, a place of trust. Remembrance follows my innermost dreams. A place I can call

Overwhelmed, the sky precipitates, pouring its guts out; luckily I sit on the dry side of the pane, snugly… smugly… till… A pigeon flits, looking for its 6 inches, as all around birds fight for every inch; a dog dives

Sitting in a car park Staring at the rains Musing in a car park Counting all my pains Observing the world As it passes me by Watching it go Through warm sleepy eyes Moments slip by As we leave them

I smiled today I smiled today, when I saw the cobweb above the door I once pointed to one there after you had cleaned and dusted You told me you didn’t have your glasses on that “look up”. I saw

me, my car and a never ending road, that is all I have, that is all I need, racing through unknown lands, trying to leave the hurt behind, seeing the sun go down witnessing the dawn of Venus the Orion

He was the first man your eyes opened to.. The shivering hand that touched your tiny nose.. The strong arm you cuddled on.. His love that kept brimming but never spilled.. Those eyes that made everything seem within reach.. That

Our lives are so filled with negatives that we often forget about the positives We have convinced ourselves that bad news sells, and good news is a side story at best As parents, we love our children dearly, but we

A very unusual day I met a stranger, Got down from car and turned around, Walked to me with eyes filled with sigh of relief and pleasure, His lips whispered slowly with comment Thank GOD! I am a stubborn lady

I shut my eyes And settle in Familiar creaks and sighs From the house within The distant night guard’s rattle A car driving its owner to bed The muted rustle of pigeons Perched precariously On the ledge At the edge

San Francisco Skyline Trembles and quakes with pinpricks of light, Throbbing multi-million galaxies of secret lives Ebbing and absorbing one another in the crisp California night Speeding towards the Mission in a rust bucket, Old Haggard hearse of jovial youth

How can we make peace As sexy as Denzel Washington Brandishing a gun or a bomb? How can we make peace as Sexy as Tom Cruise, Will Smith, Gweneth Paltrow or Angelina Jolie? How can we make peace sexy? So

I am divided into halves that I did not choose. I head out the door at 8.45 pm, heart beating faster than necessary. I have just lost a screaming match. “Decent girls get home at this time.” “You are the

On seeing a big field, Stopped my car. It’s almost evening now. The boys are coming out Through the broken wall. Their football …1998! A friendly dog came running; This one looks like Blacky. Don’t have anything now, dear! …From

“You’ll be safe, I promise”, reassured his mum. “But its not you who’ll end up sat on your bum!” A conversation they’d had most every week but it didn’t make his knees feel any less weak. “Now come along, Harry,

Children laughing when at play, bright sun rising to greet the day Sweet cream added in my morning coffee, horses munching hay A rusty nut that just breaks free, an ancient majestic noble tree Wind at my back true point

A car zipped through the early morning silence bursting in sound the stillness of sunrise Sol emerged in golden rays cast upon the new day A robin hopped as though dancing in rhythm to ‘The Dawn Chorus’ who woke the

Busted yolk in my morning egg, broke a shoelace, skinned my leg Baby’s diaper full of poop, car won’t start, wife flew the coop Late for my job, dropped my cell, oh my Lord it broke to hell I’d call

“I’m coming home” that’s what she told me last december a short twelve days to a Christmas morning where the only present I could care for was waking next to her only to sneak out of bed to prepare her

Send me your sons And ask not why. Give them a hug And say goodbye. It isn’t a war, It’s just goodwill. I will take your sons And teach them to kill. It isn’t a war, It’s just goodwill: Explain

All the talk, murmurs rushing from room to room anxious dogs unable to please, dark clothes, suppressed expressions, napkins and finger foods piling up, glasses clinking in the kitchen sink with no one around just the weight of all those

There is a train a coming, I hear it down the track. Like music to my ears Clicky clack, clickty clack. Hop on boy, I hear The conductor yell: You’re going for a ride And get to ring the bell.

When things go wrong as they sometimes will, when road you are troughing seems all uphill, feeling all alone, the destined is also far seeming, then O my friend, find a companion in your own inner being. Waiting for love

If there had been a wizened gypsy I’d crossed who’d laid down a curse upon me or revealed I would die while driving a car it would make more sense, this milky inner weakness I feel when I consider getting

My wife gasps in pain there’s a dog running toward us down the highway median traffic is lurching the sun sits a dog’s head above the southern horizon Thanksgiving is tomorrow we have to turn time into distance the car

Woken up at two, by a pesky little dream, I have been standing by the window, Waiting for my sleep. The neon lights burn ugly holes In the black velvet of the night, A thirsty lapwing flies around Cursing aloud

He didn’t think about her for a week despite the Manchester slags carping in the rental car lobby while their children disassembled democracy and the drumbeat of the universe tore the cloud cover razed the concrete like blackberry canes way

she’s all alone again just a moment composing herself without a mirror tremors in her chest her rib cage trying to collapse upon her heart the first one – years distant was her grandfather on the carpeted steps next to

The sunset blazes upon the vault This afternoon dies slowly forever The world is overfilled with weariness and fatigue Another episode of this life’s masquerade Comes to an end… The curtain falls… And beauteous Agnes Adoma The prima donna of